


Wanderlust

by SexyAsswoMan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Amusement Parks, Fluff, Harry pins over Louis like crazy, It's just all fluff, M/M, accidental time travel?, or you could call it dreaming with a twist, sort of i guess, that's about it really, yes thats a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 22:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12492728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyAsswoMan/pseuds/SexyAsswoMan
Summary: As he splashed some water on his face, his mind drifted back again towards the strange picture. Why was he so drawn towards it? It wasn’t even a nice picture. It was jittery and blurry on the edges and just overall not thoughtfully taken. No one looked prepared. But maybe that was the whole reason why it looked so alive. It wasn't fair either that the boy in the picture was utterly attractive. Harry was a mess of tired brain cells.He wiped his face with a tissue as he dragged his feet out of the restroom, closing the door lightly behind him. The water did not help at all because he still felt sleepy as he sighed in defeat. He really needed some coffee.It wasn't until a warm breeze hit his face that Harry was forced to open his eyes. Did they crank up the heater or something? Even if they did, it still wouldn't explain the sudden breeze he was hit with. He was inside a bloody building after all.Except when he opened his eyes, he wasn't.He was now stood on a sidewalk.What the actual fuck?or,Harry wanted to sleep, not get lost in a city he never visited, nor in the boy with sparkling blue eyes.





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> I have basically written a 9kish fic where Harry (and me) whines about how beautiful Louis Tomlinson is. And I couldn't be more happier that I did that.
> 
> I'd like to thank the wonderful [Julie](http://louistomlinsons.tumblr.com) for giving me such a lovely prompt and sharing her wonderful ideas. She is such an amazing artist and she really deserves all the love. This fic is for you love.  
> The beautiful moodboard and banner she made for the fic can be viewed [here](http://louistomlinsons.tumblr.com/private/162126086582/tumblr_oryg3sxJRO1uph12n)
> 
> I also want to thank my wonderful beta [@justsomelarryfics](http://justsomelarryfics.tumblr.com) who was a complete lifesaver. Thank you for taking care of this fic in such a short notice love, you are the reason this fic is seeing the light.
> 
> Well that's it! Hope you all like it!

**  Wanderlust  **

 

To say that Harry was grumpy would be an understatement.

Being a university student was hard. Especially if you had classes that starts at eight in the morning almost every single day.

It's not like he hated education –although sometimes it did made him wonder what was the purpose of it, why was he even _here,_ and why was learning about business at eight in the bloody morning so damn important. But those were for the days when he was miserable. Which meant most days, Harry loved studying business (that's a lie, everyone knows it), and he even loved mornings (mornings that started after like, eleven am), and going to uni and meeting friends (at leash at a reasonable hour), and socializing and partying just like any other uni kid. He really did.

But he was just tired. He was tired of early classes, tired of lectures that made him want to rip his hair out, tired of not sleeping enough and dragging himself around campus with bags under his eyes.

He was tired and it was a Sunday for crying out loud, and all he ever wanted to do was sleep. What he did _not_ want was Niall barging into his room at nine in the morning–the nerve of that bastard– and _literally_ dragging him out of bed so the Irish shit could go to this shitty diner he had been talking about for _days._ It wasn't even a _cafe!_ It was a _diner!_ Why was there a diner in Britain in the first place? How is that even allowed? It’s _Britain_ , not the bloody USA. Who even goes to diners? _Nobody, that’s who!_ (Okay maybe a lot of people do but, just, try to sympathies with his pain here for a bit) _._

And on top of that, it was in the middle of September, which meant that everything felt colder than it should. Winter was coming.

So yes, Harry had his bloody reason to be grumpy. And sleepy. And tired. And if Niall wanted to whine about it, he could just fuck off.

“Come on Hazza! Cheer up, will ya! It's a fine _morning!”_ Niall said in a cheery voice as he dragged Harry along the sidewalks of London which only made Harry glare at him in return. 

“Yes. A perfect morning indeed. A perfect one to _sleep_.” He grumbled, but Niall being Niall, just brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Stop being a baby! Look around ya! The whole city is up and running!” he said as he waved at the girl who was playing guitar on the sidewalk, earning a smile from her in return.

“In case you have forgotten, London never sleeps,” Harry replied blankly as he looked around with dread. He honestly didn't get why there were this boy people out this early, especially since it was a Sunday.

“True that!" 

“Why do we have to go to a diner anyway? We could've just went to the cafe near the flat,” Harry asked as he side stepped to avoid bumping into a boy.

“It’s called _trying new things,_ Harold!” the Irish lad taunted, causing Harry to roll his eyes. “When was the last time you even been to a diner, huh? Besides, I heard this place serves a mean full English!”

“Of course.”

“Besides, I have a friend coming in to meet us there. Top lad that one! You'd love him!” Niall said as he wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder. 

“Ohh trust me, I won't be loving anything at this hour,” Harry mumbled as they made their way through the busy streets of London.

It was going to be a long day.

 

*******

 

The first thing Harry noticed when they walked into the diner was that it looked awfully _American._

Harry knew it was such a British thing for him to say, most American people would be rolling their eyes at him for this, but he couldn't help it.

The diner had the traditional red and white theme. It had bar stools beside the counter and small booths for people to enjoy their food.It actually felt _cozy._

The place was surrounded by the smell of bacon and eggs, and well, if Harry wasn’t as ass tired as he was now, he would have definitely approved the decor. The smell surrounding them was amazing. If he could just get some coffee in him, he might make it through the day.

Even though the environment was quite pleasing to his eyes, he had to say that the most interesting part of the place was the walls. 

From top to bottom, the walls were filled with sets of photos taken of, well, _strangers._  

And by strangers Harry meant _complete_ strangers. Not of any famous old time singers or gorgeous models that left a mark in history. Instead, the walls stared back at him with faces he had never seen and eyes he had never known.

There were pictures of different people doing things like laundry, skydiving, walking down the aisle, drinking beer, or just laughing and having a good time. It was as if the wall was a giant photo album, collecting pictures of every memory made in different places by different faces. 

“I heard the owner is a photographer. Likes human photography. Said he collected these photos from the people that came in here when the place opened up, to make this place look more _homey,”_ Niall spoke as they walked towards an empty booth on the corner.

And it did feel a bit homey. Each photo told a different story from a different scenario, as if the whole world was connected on the wall itself.

They took a seat as Harry's eyes roamed around the walls with interest, taking in every picture and trying to figure out the stories behind each of them. And pretty soon, they landed on one photo in particular.

On the side of the wall that stood across them hung a black and white photo of a boy. He wore what it looked to be a tracksuit and was surrounded by a few men in tuxedos. The boy's appearance did not go with the setting that was around him at all, but somehow his presence made it work, giving the picture an edge that made you look twice. The picture looked to be taken in a hurry, it’s focus being blurry on the edges and the angles being just not quite right. 

It would've been just an all over average picture if it wasn't for the gaze the boy wore.

The boy's gaze cut through the camera with a boredom and annoyance, making Harry feel uncomfortable just by looking at him. It was clear the boy did not like his picture being taken like that, and the boredom that stirred in his eyes suggested that he was used to, albeit not happy, about it. Harry still couldn’t take his eyes off of him, though. The boy was, after all, _breathtakingly beautiful._

The first thing that captured Harry's attention was his sharp cheekbones. They sat on top of his cheeks like razor blades and the light of the lamppost above him made them especially stand out. His eyes also spoke of mystery, just as they did of annoyance, and the parting of his thin lips suggested that he was about to let out the puff of smoke he had dragged in just a couple of seconds ago. A cigarette hung loosely in between his dainty fingers he held to one side, and his messy windswept hair was pushed back in a quiff that showcased his face perfectly. He looked every ounce of perfection without even trying, and Harry was mesmerized by the beauty he projected.

Even in the jittery low quality of the picture, the boy glowed. His mere presence made the picture look like a masterpiece. Harry kind of swooned just by looking at his face.

The boy should be a model. The boy _probably_ _was_ a model, Harry thought as he eyed the picture carefully.

His eyes were addicting. So was his body. Everything about him had a pull, a pull Harry couldn't ignore even if he wanted to. And it was just from a bloody picture. Harry wondered how it would feel if he got to see him in person. The whole room would turn to stare at him, that was for sure. He would be hard to ignore and even harder to not look at.  


“Harry? Harold? You there mate?” Niall's voice snapped Harry out of his trance, causing him to jump in his seat.

“Yea-yeah, what?” he questioned as he tried to shake off the sudden weird feeling that had made an appearance in his gut. He was still feeling sleepy. Probably. Yeah, that must've been it.

“You are really out of it, aren't you?” Niall said, giving him a blank gaze. “Go splash some water on your face.That might kick you back up,” the lad said, motioning towards the restroom, making Harry sigh. 

“Yeah, I probably should. Be right back.” Harry said as he got out of the booth, his feet carrying him towards the restroom in a slow pace.

He couldn't help but cast the picture one last glance as he passed it. He had probably mentioned it a hundred times in his head already, but damn, the boy was utterly beautiful. Harry felt a bit dizzy just by looking at his picture. God only knows how beautiful he’d look face to face.

Harry walked into the restroom feeling drained, missing his bed dearly as the seconds passed at a slow pace.

 _Stupid Niall and his stupid morning friends,_ he thought bitterly while taking a piss.

He zipped up slowly before walking towards the basin, ready to wash his hand and just get out. He needed this day to be over soon and he needed his coffee to bare with it as soon as possible.

As he splashed some water on his face, his mind drifted back again towards the strange picture. Why was he so drawn towards it? It wasn’t even a nice picture. It was jittery and blurry on the edges and just overall not thoughtfully taken. No one looked prepared. But maybe that was the whole reason why it looked so alive. It wasn't fair either that the boy in the picture was utterly attractive. Harry was a mess of tired brain cells.

He wiped his face with a tissue as he dragged his feet out of the restroom, closing the door lightly behind him. The water did not help at all because he still felt sleepy as he sighed in defeat. He really needed some coffee.

It wasn't until a warm breeze hit his face that Harry was forced to open his eyes. Did they crank up the heater or something? Even if they did, it still wouldn't explain the sudden breeze he was hit with. He was inside a bloody building after all.

Except when he opened his eyes, he wasn't.

He was now stood on a sidewalk.

_What the actual fuck?_

Harry glanced around in panic to find that he was actually standing in the middle of a sidewalk of a road that did not seem familiar to him in any way, the diner nowhere in sight.

He stood in mild horror and confusion as he took in the busy road in front of him, with cars rushing away as people walked around hand in hand. He glanced behind to see that he was now stood in front of a public toilet. A public toilet that looked way too nasty to be of use to anyone. It had green moss covering up its walls and the air around it reeked of piss. Harry needed to get out of here.

Except he didn't actually know where _here_ was right now.

Everything around him was different. The buildings were different. The people around him were different. Everything was just bloody _different._

Harry was lost. He got lost after getting out of a toilet in a diner. Even thinking about it made him feel crazy. He needed to calm down.

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair as he tried to get his fact straight.

He woke up at nine today. Went to the diner at ten? Ten thirty? Then he sat down and looked at a photo for a while before stumbling into the toilet so that he could wash his face. He got into the toilet, took a piss, washed his hands and face, and got out.

But somehow something must have gone terribly _wrong_ because now, instead of being in the diner, he was stood in the middle of a sidewalk. And let's not forget the fact that it was now the bloody evening instead of morning.

So the only logical explanation for this would be that his brain somehow had managed to erase a whole day from his mind, until now.

Did he black out or something? Was he on drugs? Did Niall give him drugs?!  It wouldn't be the first time if he did. But the Irish fucker wouldn't leave him alone after that, that's for sure. And judging by his surroundings, he was sure that Niall was not here.

So drugs? Well no, not drugs. Maybe drugs. Whatever, the important thing was that he was here now, and all he needed to do was ask someone where here was, and he could be on his way home. Yep, he just needed to go home. Everything else could wait.

It also could be that he was probably dreaming. Yeap, there's a big chance of that happening. Ha ha. He probably had fallen asleep in the toilet. Maybe he did fall asleep. Now he just needed to wake up, somehow. If that even made sense.

“Wake up Harry, wakey wakey. Come on,” He mumbled to himself softly, trying to get his sleeping self to wake the fuck up and prove to him that this was just a dream. But nothing happened.

He sighed again as he ran a hand over his face, trying his best to keep his cool.

“You know,” a voice startled him out of his trance, making him snap his head towards its direction, “some people might find you weird if they see you talking to yourself like this in the middle of a busy sidewalk.”

Harry felt all the air leave his lungs as he looked at the person who spoke to him.

Right in front of him stood the boy from the picture he stared down at the diner, with the same wild quiff and same bloody tracksuit. Only this time he had a smirk painted over his thin lips and his eyes had a hint of mischief in them instead of annoyance.  

_What the actual fuck!_

Harry looked at him with his mouth slightly agape as the boy walked closer. His dark brown hair looked soft under the light of the rusty lamppost, and he had a defined jawline that could probably cut out Harry's soul. And he wasn't even going to talk about the cheekbones. Nope. 

None of it made any sense. All of the logic Harry had built suddenly crumbled to his feet and he wasn't even sure how he could explain this situation, because no way in hell was this a coincidence. A stranger you see in a shitty picture doesn't just pop up in your life wearing the same fucking outfit. Even the cigarette in his hand looked the same for crying out loud! This kind of shit happens in dreams! Or in movies!  
  
Wait.

Were they being filmed? Was there a hidden camera somewhere? Was he being _pranked_?  
  
Harry needed to calm the fuck down.  
  
“What's the matter, cat got your tongue?” the boy spoke again, making Harry shiver even though the weather felt hot around him.  
  
He needed to think this through.  
  
Just as he managed to make out a reply, he heard voices coming down from the other side of the street. The stranger must have heard it too, judging by the grunt that escaped his mouth as he rolled his eyes in frustration.  
  
“Well,” the boy said looking at him, mischief clear as the night sky in his eyes, “No time to talk now. Gotta _split_ ,”  he said with a wink before sprinting off ahead, leaving Harry baffled.  
  
The boy stopped on his tracks after a couple of feet away, only to glance at Harry with a golden smirk and questions in his eyes that spoke of thrill.  
  
“You wanna tag along, stranger?” He shouted from where he stood and Harry eyed him with bewilderment.  
  
The voices behind Harry got louder by the second. He glanced behind only to realize that they were the same men in suits from the photo. He turned back to look at the boy with a billion questions in his eyes  
  
But the the only thing he got it return was a raised eyebrow. The boy was waiting.

And without thinking ahead, Harry _ran_.

  
*******

  
They ran until their lungs felt like they were on fire.  
  
Both of them zoomed across the street with lightning speed, the stranger running in front of him as Harry tried his best to follow. He was never the graceful runner so it was safe to say that there had been quite a few stumbles across their journey to the unknown. Well, on Harry's side, at least. Because the stranger looked like he knew where he was going.  
  
It wasn't until both of them stumbled into a dark ally that the stranger decided to stop, the voices of the strange boy unheard for miles.  
  
Harry tried to catch his breath as he planted himself on the ground without much care of the dirt.  
  
“Why-” he heaved out in between his rigid breathing. “Why were we running?”  
Hearing his voice, the stranger gave him a smirk.  
“You do know how to talk then,” he said with an easy grin as he sat down across from Harry, leaning his head on the wall.  
  
“And to answer your question, we were running so that we could escape, of course,” he beamed.  
  
The boy had a childish aura to him. With the dim lights coming from the street beside them, Harry could see that his eyes held a wild shade of blue. They were addicting.  
  
“Now wasn't that fun?” the boy snorted after both of them had caught their breath, making Harry raise an eyebrow at him in question.  
  
“I think we've lost them so it's safe, for now,” the boy continued without a care. “You are very, very clumsy, by the way. Like a baby giraffe. Did you know that?” He asked with the same teasing tone he had before, causing Harry to pout.  
  
“No, I didn't. Thank you for the insightful information,” he grumbled.

“Now, now, don't be a party pooper, stranger!” The boy tsked at him with a grin, making Harry roll his eyes in return.

It wasn't until then that Harry noticed that the sky was now dark. Night had fallen upon them without him realising, and he still had yet to figure out where he was. He was half convinced that this was a dream, a fairly realistic one, because so far, nothing around him made any sense.  
  
“Lost in thought, are we?” The boy spoke up again, breaking the trance Harry couldn't just seem to get out of.  
  
He looked at the boy and the question he had to ask just died in his throat.  
  
The boy was unfairly attractive, and Harry had seen his fair share of attractive men in his life. But nothing came close to the boy who now sat in front of him. He was small, smaller than Harry, but he carried this authority in his presence. He looked wild and messy, yet it did nothing but increase the beauty he projected. Harry never was a poet, but he could most probably write poetry about him if he wanted. And they had just only met.  
  
Harry must have stared too long because suddenly the boy let out a snort.  
  
“You are an odd one, aren't you?” he said in a taunting tone, causing Harry's cheeks to turn red. Thank god for the darkness, he did not want to embarrass himself further.  
  
“Just surprised I guess,” Harry mumbled with a sigh. He needed to get a grip.  
Hearing that, the boy smiled, “Ahhh, can understand that,” he said in an assuring tone. “Where are you from anyway? You don't sound like you are from here,” he questioned, making Harry snap his head towards him.  
  
Now that Harry noticed, the boy didn't sound like he was from here either, if by here he meant London. But with everything that was going on, Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was in bloody Antarctica of all places.  
  
He should most probably ask him where here was. There was nothing to lose anyway. Harry was sure that the boy found him to be crazy by now.  
  
“I uh- I don't actually know where I am right now?” His replied with an uneasy voice, hoping his eyes didn't show the panic he was feeling inside.  
  
“You don't know where you are?” The boy asked him with shock evident in his voice.  
  
“No?”  
  
“Like, you actually don't know where you are?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You really don't kn-”  
  
“I don't! I don't know where I am at the moment,” Harry let out in a rush, his face getting redder by the second. The boy just stared at him.  
  
“Okay. You don't know where you are then. You lost?” He spoke slowly and tentatively, making Harry look at him.  
  
“I guess so,” He said, sounding unsure. “Where am I right now?”  
  
“Well, you are in Brooklyn, of course. The heart of New York city. You surely know that you are in New York right?”  
  
Harry might just faint.  
  
“Ohh,” was all he could master in reply.  
  
He somehow managed to teleport himself to bloody America! From a bloody toilet. Okay. Everything was okay. Great even. Splendid.  
  
“Y-you from here?” Harry asked, trying to sound normal. He was sure the boy was already freaked out by him, Harry didn't want to make him run away with anything more. At best, this was just a dream and it would be over before he knew it. The boy was the only person Harry sort of knew around here, he didn't want to lose him too now.  
  
“Nope. Born and raised in San Diego,” the boy replied with an easy grin, dropping the subject easily, “Came here with my old boy actually, to attend another of his boring business things,”

he said rolling his eyes, “Where are you from?”   
  
“London,”  Harry said slowly, hoping his voice didn't break at the end.  
  
“Ohhh, posh _British lad!_ Nice!” the boy said in a poorly attempted British accent which actually made Harry let out a small giggle.  
  
“Will you tell me why we were running just now? And whom we were running from exactly? Because I am very confused,” Harry said, letting out a puff of breath.  
  
“I guess it's time you knew the truth,” the boy spoke gravely, giving Harry a stare. Harry nodded seriously, bracing himself for the answer,  
  
“I have committed a _murder.”_  
  
What?  
  
_“What!”_ Harry let out a squawk of terror and watched the boy break into a laughing fit.  
  
“Oh my god, you should've seen your face!” he said in between his giggles, making Harry huff in return.  
  
“I was being serious here!” Harry whined with a pout, making the boy snort.  
  
“Fine, fine. Those people back there were sent after me by my old boy. Now, now, don't look at me like that, I didn’t do anything illegal. I just sort of wanted a bit of time to myself, and he clearly did not like it so.. I'll give you the details soon enough. For now, if you see them behind us, just scramble,” he finished off with a grin.  
  
“So you kind of ran away?” Harry asked slowly.  
  
“No curly, I did not _run away._ Call it more of sneaking out for a night. And getting caught while doing it, of course. You could say that I am _on the run_ , for a night,” the boy replied, clearly looking pleased with his answer. “What's your deal though? How did you manage to get lost in Brooklyn?”  
  
“Well I-” Harry stuttered as he tried to think of a reply. He couldn't possibly tell him that he thought this was a dream or that he had somehow teleported himself to America. That would sound crazy.  
  
“I'm traveling,” Harry settled on. “Yeah, just traveling. I actually just got here.” Well at least the last part wasn't a lie.  
  
“Ohh a traveler! Sick!” the boy said with a clap of his hands. “Living the dream, you are!” he sighed.  
  
“Uhh, I guess,” Harry found himself blushing. “What's your name anyway?” he found himself asking.  
  
At that, the boy put on a manic grin.  
  
“I am sorry curly, but I don't just give out my name to anyone. Stranger-danger, ya know?”  
  
“You were the one who asked me to run with you just a while ago,” Harry deadpanned.  
  
“And you obliged,” the boy shot back. “How do I know that you are not a serial killer looking for his next victim, stranger?”  
  
“I am not going to kill you, _stranger,”_ Harry said with a snort, making the other boy giggle.  
  
“Okay. I believe you,” the boy nodded with a grin.  
  
“So you are going to tell me your name now?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“What will I even call you then? I can't just yell stranger every time,” Harry said letting out a whine, causing the boy to grin.  
  
“You are no fun! We can have code names. You can call me _Eagle-1.”_  
  
“ _Eagle-1_?”  
  
“Yeap!”  
  
“What's this? A _war_ movie?”  
  
“Come on curly, entertain me here.”  
  
“And you called me the weird one.”  
  
“Shut up.” Both of them chuckled.  
  
“So,” Harry said trailing off, “you don't want to know my name either then?” 

The boy looked at him with a glint in his eyes that Harry just couldn't put a finger on, before breaking into a smile.  
  
“Curly is good enough for me. Names are overrated anyway.”  
  
They sat together in the dark ally until the sun was completely gone, with Harry trying his best to make sense of everything, and the stranger (no, he was not going to call him Eagle-1) just staring up at the the sky.  
  
The boy was interesting, Harry would give him that. As Harry watched the boy lost in his own little word, the questions returned yet again on the tip of his tongue.  
Should he really ask him? Would he find Harry crazy if he did?  
  
“So, stranger.” The boy’s voice scared away Harry's thoughts once again, leaving him empty. “What's your plan for tonight?”  
  
“I uhh- I don't know.”  
  
And Harry really didn't. His brain didn't really think about anything past now. He didn’t even think until now to be honest. Just stuck in his haze of nothing and everything and trying to make sense of it.  
  
“Want to go on an adventure then?”  
  
The boy eyed harry with a smirk laced on his face, waiting for his answer. His eyes glowed with the hint of mischief and something else, something that was so unpredictable, yet welcoming, something that just screamed _“come away with me, and I will show you a world you have yet to see.”_

  
And who was Harry to say no?

  
*******

 

_I want to know what you are made of._

  
As they started out for the night, Harry decided that his thoughts be damned. If this was a dream, then so be it. If he was going crazy and was on drugs, still so be it. Even if this was actually true and he did somehow teleport himself to Brooklyn, so fucking be it. He did not want to think, did not want to wonder what it was or what it could be anymore. All that mattered was he was here, in Brooklyn, with a boy beside him that reminded of him of the stars, and they had one night to live it out. And he was going to live. Even if it was in his dreams, he was going to live.  

The boy that walked beside him looked like a dream. With his wild set of brown hair which he’d like to run his hand through every once in awhile. He had a light scruff dusting under his sharp cheekbones, and also thin pink lips that just didn't seem to shut up for one second. And his eyes...his blue eyes that shined brighter than the city lights. Harry had never seen eyes so blue before. He couldn't take his eyes off of him even if he tried.  
  
“So, where shall we go first?” the boy asked, breaking Harry's train of thoughts.  
  
“I… I don't really know? I don't have much knowledge about this city to be honest,” Harry said sheepishly, watching the boy give him a disapproving look.  
  
“Sloppy sloppy traveler you are. It's good that I found you. Otherwise your visit would have been a total waste,” the stranger said, shaking his head.  
  
“You've visited here before, then? _Brooklyn,_ I mean,” Harry asked casually as they roamed through the busy city.  
  
“Yea of course! I've been here a handful of times actually. Hung around here last spring, too. This is the city of dreams after all,” the boy said as they zoomed through the crowd and towards what looked to be a cinema.  
  
“Ohhh, then you must really know your way around here,” Harry said as they came to a stop in front of the bright building.  
  
It had green neon lights on its huge signboard, flashing out the name _‘Alpine Cinema’_ in big bold letters. Right under the flashy green sign was the name of the movie that was currently playing. A movie Harry had seen a handful of times when he was a child. _Sunset Boulevard._  
__  
_That's strange,_ Harry thought as he eyed the name with confusion. He remembers watching the film as a child, with it’s black and white footage and authentic story. It was a good movie. But it wasn’t that good that it would be shown in a big shot cinema after this long, was it? Not compared to everything that was out now at least. Or has the movie been remade? But the poster was the same as the old one and even the cast looked the same. Harry was sure he knew what Gloria Swanson looked like, having watched countless movies of her while growing up. And that was definitely her. He had watched this movie.  
  
But none of it made any sense. Sure it was a classic, but shouldn't movies like this be played at more subvert cinemas? This place looked way too classy to be playing old movies instead of the new and upcoming ones. And judging by the crowd entering the place, it sure looked populer.  A big place like this surely had new movies to put out now, didn’t they?  
  
“Ahh, Sunset Boulevard,” the boy again brought Harry out of his thoughts, and Harry turned towards him in question to see the boy beam.

  
"I'm sure you've heard of this one, it has been the talk of the country for a while now. Regarding the cast, it isn’t all that surprising. Gloria Swanson is in it after all, of course it was going to be a hit. One of my friends went to the premiere show last week, you know? Lucky bastard that. I wish I could’ve too, but I couldn't boyage me a ticket. Had to watch it three days later. It's a pretty sick movie though. Have you watched it?"  
  
And all Harry did was look at him baffled.  
  
"The movie came out a week ago?" Harry asked slowly as he tried to wrap his mind around it. He was not sure if he was ready to hear the answer.  
  
"My god, stranger, have you been living under a rock or something? Yes, the movie came out a week ago. Friday to be exact. And it had a fucking sell out. Not a single ticket was available. Trust me, I had tried. I had to wait for three days straight before actually getting a ticket to see it in Gatazbo. The wait almost killed me," the boy said, letting out a sigh, and Harry finally put the last missing piece of the puzzle together.  
  
The year was 1950.  
  
Of fucking course he was in the fifties, how did he not fucking notice! The clothes, the cars, the buildings, the people, the weird neon signs. Everything fit. Harry was a dumb idiot.

  
“I’ve already seen it,” he replied slowly, trying to digest the turmoil that was going on inside him. So much for not thinking.

“Ohh dang. No point going in there then,” the boy said with a shrug. “We should do something new.”  
  
Harry turned towards the boy in question to see him break into a devilish grin.  
  
“Say, you haven’t seen the parachute jump yet, now have you?”  
  
“No?” Harry responded, confused.  
  
“Ohh then you are in for a treat, curly! Your _life_ is about to change,” the boy smirked as he pulled Harry forward, making the lad stumble before matching the other boy's strides.

  
_Parachute jump?_

 

*******

 

The first thing Harry had to say about the fifties was that everything around them was unexpectedly _bright_.

He knew he was in Brooklyn of all places at the moment, which was the heart of New York at that time, but it still felt more, well, bright. Harry wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to be honest, never even having thought of visiting Brooklyn in the fifties (obviously. When will this dream end again?), so he was a bit gobsmacked.

The city was coming alive as the night got darker and Harry was a bit dazed as he tried to take in the different scenarios around him. But he was not prepared to see what the other boy had in stored for him until they stood right in front of it.  
  
When the boy, (Harry should really give him a name, it was getting ridiculous) had mentioned the name _Parachute Jump_ , Harry clearly had not expected to be standing inside of an amusement park, gazing up at the 250 feet ride of pure horror.

“This is the _parachute jump_ ?” he asked in disbelief as he watched people scream as they were dropped from the top of, what looked like, a very tall _pole_ thingy, in a seat that had a bloody parachute stuck to it. They were of course strapped to the seat and the seat was also connected to the said _pole_ but it did nothing to make him feel safe.

“Yeap. This is the _beauty!”_ The boy said with a huge grin on his face. Harry gave him a blank stare.

“Is this _safe?”_ He asked in a high pitched tone after a couple of seconds, causing the boy to let out a snort.

“Of _course_ it is!” he said with a laugh. “What? Little curly scared of heights?”

“Wh–of course not!” Harry fought back. “It just, it doesn't look _safe.”_ He mumbled the last part more to himself.

“Awww, look at you! You are afraid, aren't you?” the boy said, looking delighted. “Maybe we should try the more, well, _boring_ stuff first and bring you back here? You know, to build up your courage and all that shit.”

“I am not afraid!” Harry let out a huffed whine.

“Sure you aren't,” the boy replied with a smirk. “We will get back here, don’t worry. No tourist can walk out of Brooklyn without riding the parachute jump. It’s a rule.”

Harry was not sure how he felt about that.

“So what will it be first? Bumper cars, roller coasters, Ferris wheel, or do you want to try your hand at those carnival games?”

“Roller-coasters sound fun,” Harry said thoughtfully. Harry was a wee bit scared of heights, he will admit that. But if this was the 1950’s, he didn't need to worry about all the crazy stuff like a 90 degree fall or a 360 degree spin. He can totally handle it.

Both of the men walked towards the huge coaster that stood tall on the east side of the park. The whole place was decorated in colorful lights, giving everything a festive vibe. Harry looked around him to see kids running about with their parents in toe and teenagers howling with laughter. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“I give you, the _thunderbolt!_ ” the boy exclaimed almost proudly as he stretched his arms wide, standing in front of the roller-coaster that was lit with blue and white light. It looked beautiful, in a terrifying way. “You ready, stranger?”

“As I'll ever be,” Harry said, letting out a sigh.

And they set off.

It wasn't until Harry found himself seated in the carriage that terror finally started to creep in. It wasn’t as if he was afraid of sitting hundred feet above ground, it was the _rush_ and the _speed_ and the _wind hitting his face as every thing in front of him blurred_ part that scared him. Height, he could handle. Speed? Not so much.

As their little carriage started to move, Harry's heart began to move with it.

 _“Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down,”_ he mumbled to himself as they went higher and higher. And, fuck, the wind was cold, which was not helping. It was a good thing he wore a sweater. He just prayed that he didn’t throw up. 

Harry glanced towards the boy beside him only to find him looking back, with a soft smile playing at his lips.

“Scared, _stranger?”_ he asked in a soft tone, making Harry shiver. And as the carriage came to a slow stop at the top before the fall, Harry's face was enough to give out the answer.

As the carriage started to lean downwards, Harry felt a small hand entwine with his own. And he wasn't sure if it was the coaster gaining speed, or the sudden gust of wind that brushed past his face, or simply the look in the other boy’s eyes and warmth of his hand that took Harry's breath away.

“Keep looking at me!” The boy shouted over the wind as he gave Harry a wild smile.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of him even if he tried.

 

*******

 

_What defined your skin and what stories lied under the cover of your eyelashes._

 

The night felt young as Harry and the stranger walked through the crowd at a slow pace. The grip of his fingers burned holes through Harry's skin like laser beams, and Harry wondered how he still managed to breathe.

He looked at the boy in wonder once more, for the thousandth time that night. He was just that beautiful.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” the boy said, taking note of Harry's gaze, with a pleased smirk painted on the corner of his lips. Harry blushed as he looked down at the ground. Because if he had his phone, he would have surely taken his picture.

The grip on his hand got suddenly stronger as the boy stopped in front of a booth. When Harry looked up, he found the boy looking at him with the same mischief painted in his eyes as before.

“Say _stranger_ , up for a grand game of _balls_?" 

Harry almost choked on air.

 

*******

 

“I am telling you, this time I'll get it! I can feel it!” Harry snorted at the boy's reassurance, and watched as the lad failed once again to knock out the bottles from the shelf, letting out a distressed whine as the ball hit the floor.

“Stop laughing, curly! As if you can do any better,” the boy huffed as Harry let out another chuckle.

“I don't know. I haven't tried yet,” Harry said as he came to stand beside him with a smile, and the lad rolled his eyes for good measure. 

“Okay then, take your play,” the lad said as he grabbed him three more balls and Harry took them with a shake of his head.

His first throw landed miserably on the ground, missing the bottles by a foot.

The boy let out a snort as he came to stand behind Harry. “Not so easy now, is it?” He said with a gleeful tone.

“Stop distracting me,” Harry said as he threw the second ball, missing the bottles once again, making the boy chuckle.

As Harry began to position himself to throw the last one, a small press of hands on his shoulder blades blurred his vision once again.

“If you get this one for me, I'll give you a kiss.” the boy's voice purred in his ears and spread itself like honey, and the light press of his lips made Harry's head spin. 

There was no way he was going to get this throw right.

Except he did.

Two smaller sets of arms wrapped itself around Harry's waist as the bottles went crashing towards the ground, and Harry felt like he was on fire.

“We did it!!” The boy let out a squeal as his grip around Harry grew stronger, and it took Harry everything to master out a reply.

“You mean _I_ did it,” he said in a choked voice as he turned his face to look at the boy behind him, only to be blinded by the wonderful smile he wore.

“But I _helped_ curly!” He said not faulting for a second. “After all, motivation goes a long way sometimes,” he added with a wink. He still hadn’t let go of him.

Thin lips pressed on his cheeks as Harry was handed a small yellow teddy bear.

“I am a man of my own words, stranger,” the boy eyed him brightly before snatching the teddy out of his hands with a grin.

Harry's face did not stop burning for the rest of the night.

 

*******

 

_What made you smile like the sun and what kept you up at night._

 

“Are you ready for parachute jump?” The boy asked as they walked towards the ride of terror hand in hand.

“No.” Harry muttered grimly making the lad chuckle.

“Well, we are doing it anyway.”

Soon enough, Harry found himself sat 250 feet above ground with his shaky feet after someone strapped the seat belt around him like vines. He took a big gulp as he looked at the ground underneath him.

 _There was no way this could be safe. Who allowed this?_ He thought scandalized as he glanced at the boy to find him already looking at him, with the eyes that even put stars to shame.  

“Don't be scared, curly!” The boy shouted over the harsh wind that blew past them, making Harry shiver. “Just follow my lead.”

“I'd follow you anywhere.” The words were out of his mouth even before he even realized, and suddenly, they were hanging mid air as the ride zoomed its way downwards.

With a surprised scream, Harry realized that he was falling.

  


*******

 

_I want to know your secrets, your sorrows and the sins you have committed._

  
Both of them walked under the dim lights that hung above the boardwalk, the noise of the amusement park fading slowly behind them as they got closer to the sea. Harry turned towards the boy beside him with a question that had been resting on the tip of his tongue all night, but the words died in his throat yet again as he took him in.  
  
The boy looked beautiful.  
  
The rides from the amusement park had turned his hair into a wild mess, with strands coming out from every direction. A thin layer of sweat pooled at the peak of his cheekbones and nose, making him sparkle. He had dirt on his faded black jeans and a mustard stain on his white shirt from the corn dogs they had earlier. He had the smell of grass and cotton candy and everything that was wonderful around him, which didn’t even make any sense at the moment but _damn_ , he looked beautiful.  
  
He glowed under the old rusty lights and every time they touched, Harry's skin burned like it was on fire. Every part of the boy felt ethereal, and Harry was in awe at the beauty the boy reflected, merely just by breathing.  
  
He was a supernova, and when they locked eyes for the thousandth time that night, Harry swore that he saw the stars.  
  
“How are you feeling, stranger?” the boy asked with a coy smile playing at his lips, as if he knew the storm that raged inside Harry's head. As if he knew every word Harry wanted to say.  
  
Goosebumps appeared on Harry's skin as he let the boy's voice sink into his veins, letting it consume his entire existence.  
  
The words Harry muttered in reply shivered across the ocean wind, finding it's way towards the sky, with all of his unspoken emotions behind it.  
  
“ _Wanderlust_ ,” and the wind took it away. 

The boy smiled so bright that it hurt. It hurt looking at him. But Harry could not make himself turn away.

“How was parachute jump?” he asked as both of them sat down on the edge of the deck, with their legs hanging over the water. Nearly touching, yet not quite.

“It was… _freeing_ , in a way,” Harry mumbled as more wind zipped past them.  

Harry turned to find the blue eyes already on him, and it was too much. Too much of everything. Too much of untold stories and unknown adventures. Too much of undescribed feelings and unforgettable memories.

“Well, you know what they say,” the boy mumbled slowly as his fingers intertwined with Harry once more, making Harry's breath hitch with the slightest movement.

“It's the _fall_ that matters.” 

Harry couldn't have agreed more.

 

*******

 

_I want to know what you are made of_

_I want to know **you**_

 

The Ferris wheel welcomed them with open arms with its warm glow and steady movements. Both of the men stepped into it without a word, not wanting to break the fragile bubble that had suddenly built around them.

The ride moved steady, unlike Harry's heart that beat like a drum.

The night was still young, but Harry could feel it slipping through his fingers like sand. Trying to hold on to it was a fool's wish, he knew. But it seemed like his heart didn't get the memo.

The day had been wild. From him walking into a diner to _this_ , whatever this was. It felt surreal. The boy that stood beside him felt surreal.

And god, the boy. Harry still had yet to learn his name or his own whereabouts. But none of that seemed to matter every time he looked at him. All he wanted to do was to corner him on the glass of the Ferris wheel and take his lips in for a bruising kiss. A kiss that left both of them shaking with their heart in their throats.

God he wanted to kiss him so badly. Kiss him until his lips hurt and his lungs were left empty. Kiss him until he knew every line, every corner of that gorgeous mouth and the taste of his tongue on his. He want to make a map of the way those lips moved against his and _damn_ , he didn't even know his name.

“Lost in thoughts again, are we _stranger?_ ” The soft voice broke Harry out of his daze once more.

 _Lost in you,_ was what Harry's heart screamed.

They looked at the scenery in silence. And to Harry, suddenly Brooklyn felt too small. Too small to hold everything he wanted to say and every inch of his thoughts. Too small to bear the weight of the memories he made today. Too small to bear what his heart was screaming.

Harry glanced at the boy once more to find him standing with a soft smile, eyes focused on the chaos underneath them.

“You are staring again,” he mumbled as his face broke into a grin, and Harry felt the edge of his heart bleeding.

“Can't help it,” he mumbled back slowly, not taking his eyes off of him once.

“Then don't stop looking,” the boy said, finally meeting his gaze.

They stared at each other as the air around them grew thick. It was getting hard to breathe. But Harry never wanted it to stop.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” the boy whispered as he took a step forward, making Harry’s breath hitch.

“L-like what?” Harry mumbled, making the boy smile once more.

“Like you want to know the secrets of the universe,” the boy whispered and they were stood so close now. So close that Harry could hear the beat of his rigid heart in his ears. And no melody had ever felt more sweeter.

“Not the universe. Just want to know _you_ ,” Harry whispered as he leaned down, stopping only a breath away from the boy's lips.

He took in the small hitch of breath the boy took, and Harry wanted to drown himself in it for eternity.

Time came to a stop as Harry started to close the final distance in between them, closing his eyes at the sight of the parted thin lips that seemed to welcome him. To dare him to take a taste.

“My name is–”

.

.

.

.  
  


“ _HARRY!_ Harry wake the fuck up you _bastard!_ ”

Niall’s harsh voice made Harry's eyes snap open, and with a jolt in his spine Harry realized that he was sat in the diner.

“Wh-wha-” Harry choked on his breath as he looked around frantically, his mind refusing to believe the thing he knew throughout all of it.

It had been a dream.

He had been dreaming.

It was all a fucking dream.

He looked at Niall to find him looking back at him in annoyance and mild confusion.

“I still can't believe you fell asleep on me,” he grumbled as he eyed Harry with a displeased glare. “I was talking with you, ya know!” he sneered. “What ya looking around for, huh? Had a nightmare or summat?”

“I–” Harry did not know what to say.

God damn he was just about to kiss that boy. Shit fucking shit. He didn't even know his fucking name.

The distaste must have showed clear on Harry's face, causing Niall to leave his seat and come sit beside him.

“Everything is going to be just fine Hazza.” He said as he petted Harry's head. “It was just a dream.”

And Harry wanted to cry. Because it was. Just a fucking dream.

“Let's get some coffee in you bud. You look terrible.” Niall said as he called up a waitress.

Harry sat blankly as Niall gave their ordered to her, not even bothering to listen to what he said.

His eyes found its way back to the picture that hung on the wall loosely. And the boy in the picture stared at him once more with the same bored gaze.

And Harry wanted to scream. _I know him._ He wanted to scream so bad, to let everyone in the room hear him, to let himself hear him, even though he knew his words were a lie. Because in the end, he did not know the boy at all, now did he? He didn't even know his name.

Harry smashed his face on the table with a whine. Scolding himself for not asking what he wanted to know. For the missed opportunities and just about everything else.

He felt Niall move out of his seat to talk to someone, heard his bashed joyful laugh that did nothing to his mood, and let a sigh of defeat. It was supposed to be a long day. Not a day filled with sulking.

“Get your face out of the table, Hazza.” Niall's voice rang into his ears, making him let out another sigh. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

He slowly lifted his head to find Niall standing beside the table, with a sunny grin on his stupid face. But Harry was not looking at him.

Instead he stared at the boy who stood right beside him, with the same blue eyes that spoke of thousand stories and the same stupid smirk that Harry felt like knowing all his life. The boy's smirk turned into a full grin as their gazes met for the first yet thousandth time, and Harry felt like he was back on the Ferris wheel once more, where time stood still and all that there ever existed, was them.

“Hello, _stranger_.” the lad spoke in a coy voice, causing a smile to slowly bloom on Harry's face, despite the shock he was in.

“Hello, _Eagle-1.”_ **** Harry said as his face broke into a complete grin.

 

And that was the start of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Yey!! it's done!  
> If you liked reading the fic, please let this young author know by leaving kudos and comments. And if you really liked it then please help out by reblogging the fic post which is right [here](http://thesexyasswoman.tumblr.com/post/165271564913/wanderlust-by-thesexyasswoman-louistomlinsons)
> 
> Thanks a ton for reading~!


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